Sanctum
by Emriel
Summary: AU. Harry is the apprentice of Albus Dumbledore, the Head Priest of Hogwarts. He is but a twelve year old child but considered them their next savior when his mentor died. The world was burning from the army of hell itself. Harry tries to do his part as the Child of the Goddess and he suceeds in protecting his people but with a hefty price. Dark, Disturbing. Read at your own risk.


When the Hogwarts Head Priest died, hours later, Harry was huddled next to his coffin, feeling forlorn with his tears having already dried up. He had his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared at the people who knelt at his feet, asking what can be done now that their sole protector is gone.

"I don't know…" Harry said, staring at the far distance.

"But they're coming. Please… do something."

"I know that, but I haven't even had enough time to grieve—"

"But Harry, they're past the walls. They could be here at any minute..."

Harry felt hurt at that. He was only twelve years old and these people looked at him as if he was their savior.

"Please, just leave me alone. Give me some time to think… I need an hour, please."

They gave him miserable faces but muttered their thanks for being considerate.

* * *

It took a long while before he mustered the will power to stand and leave his corner by the coffin.

He stood up and stared at Albus Dumbledore's calm face and felt cheated. 'How can you look so peaceful at a time like this?'

He tried not to cry, instead, he called out for the peace, for the Goddess who usually took the face of his mother.

That monstrous thing that gave them all hope.

"What should I do now?" He asked her.

There was no verbal answer but he was suddenly filled with light. Even his vision was temporarily blinded by it. He then felt a well of sorrow come forth as the light from glass dome above him began to converge on Albus Dumbledore's chest.

Straight down to his coffin.

Burning a hole through him.

The smell of burning flesh wafted through his nostrils and throughout the chamber.

"So this is your answer?! He's done everything he could to serve you and you choose to desecrate his body?"

Then he felt her saying it was not her intention to do so, but Harry could not understand why she would even do this to him, force him to watch this.

"Then do you choose to forsake me too? You could have kept him alive but you stole him from me!"

The fire stilled as if frozen in time, and he could feel a certain warmth wrap around himself as the sentient Goddess told him in words no other mortal would ever understand, "_Child. Not my intention. Too old."_

And in moments, the light began to burn through his mentor's body, as the Goddess took what was hers to begin with.

Albus Dumbledore's youthful visage began to age. The man who stayed alive for over two hundred years slowly turning to ash and bones just before him. Harry looked away unable to watch any longer.

Maybe this too would happen to him. He'd be cursed to outlive all those he loved, and forced to serve the Goddess that their country worshipped.

Or maybe the Goddess would abandon him and let him die from the wave of monsters ravaging their city and the world.

With no one else to succeed Albus, as his apprentice, he was the next in line and he wasn't ready for it.

Albus Dumbledore was his mentor and the only family he ever knew. He never expected that he'd die so soon. It was too soon.

He could barely do a tenth of what Albus could do. "Tell me... what should I do?"

_"Live_."

* * *

The entire world was slowly being overrun by demons. Towns disappeared one after another. It happened too fast and the humans never really expected that the tales of old were real.

Until they were all dying by the millions.

Demons from the depths of the Earth, from another plane of existence have sprung up to have their fill of their favorite snacks, human souls.

His entire family was ruined by the very same demons. From what he learned from rumors and gossipers, his father used to have a friend who was actually a demon. They've grown up together because the demon was adopted by his father's parents after he ran away from home.

That was his story and no one would have known that the man was a demon because he looked normal. Black hair, black eyes. Pale skin. He was human looking, no weird claw like appendages, or the tell tale signs of the monsters he was used to seeing nowadays.

So the demon grew up as his father's brother. He grew up like a human.

And then, when James and his adopted sibling reached their fifteenth year, the demon mysteriously vanished, only to reappear years later when Harry was born. The very same man apparently killed his mother and spared his father. And James… couldn't take the grief and committed suicide.

Harry was turned into an orphan just at the shy age of three and all his memories were filled with his father crying himself to sleep every night. He was left penniless after his other family members started taking whatever it is that his father left for him.

* * *

After being sent to an orphanage, he was lucky that he was picked up by Albus, who told him he had the same "gift" as he did which allowed him to perform miracles.

Magic.

Sorcery.

Whatever it is that most mortals called it.

And Harry had no other choice but to accept his help and he was glad he did because thinking back at how the orphanage was, he wasn't even sure if he would have been able to survive such a dreary place.

But now his mentor was gone, and now he had to stand back up on his own feet again.

This time, no one else was going to guide him, and from what they told him, the city would be overrun soon.

There really was no time to be sad. Albus Dumbledore's last words for him was, "live," and Harry thought that maybe he'd try holding on for just a little longer.

Despite serving a Goddess who merely took and never gave back.

"Maybe you'll abandon me just like how you abandoned him." Harry accused out loud once more. He knew he was acting like a child but he was so frustrated and still could not deal with the situation that he would never see Albus again. Would never hear his voice. Share stories with him. Eat. Laugh.

Nothing but memories.

And all he heard from _her_ was amusement and laughter.

As if his plight and the impending doom of humankind was not a concern.

But Harry knew this already. He knew that Gods and higher beings hardly had care for affairs of those lesser beings they looked after. Perhaps if it came to the point that humans were to die off, their only concern would be to ensure that at least one female and male survived.

Or maybe, nothing at all.

Not that he'd have anything to say to that once he died. If he could die at all.

* * *

Outside the Hogwarts castle, the entire world was burning.

Fires roared high in the sky. Smoke. Debris. Ash.

It was literal pandemonium.

Seeing this, Harry set to work and said to all Dumbledore's followers, "I need a gallon of blood, chalk, and livestock."

Of course, Harry thought that human sacrifices would have been better, but they need not know the darker intricacies of the _innocent_ exchanges they had with the goddess.

"And for those of you who can stomach it, go around the castle and kill everyone who wants to die."

* * *

In the ritual chamber, Harry Potter placed a pentagram on his forehead with a dagger as runes littered the floor.

They glowed and they filled the room with blood until it soaked his feet.

A larger pentagram wound around him, at each point, having one candle held by a servant.

"You will probably die today, and if you do, you have to be replaced by another. I'm not as strong as Albus and this is the best I can do. For at least five days, I assure you that none of them will be able to go through the barriers. But after that… well… you know what they'll do to anyone who stays alive."

They bowed their bodies forward, and looked at him with so much gratitude Harry ended smiling, "Thank you for doing this for us, Harry, no… Head Priest. If you have not decided to do this, those of us who remain would have not had their peace. We are with you until the very end."

Harry steeled himself. It was a futile effort, knowing that eventually they will be overrun and killed or harvested just like livestock.

But before the demons can get in, everyone who had the courage to do so would have killed themselves so if this was their last act of rebellion, he was going to do his best to protect the castle with everything he got.

* * *

The candles brightened.

The chanting began and Harry laid on the pool of blood, concentrating on forming an impenetrable dome that would protect them from anything and everything.

The castle walls groaned.

The only sustenance he had was the blood that seeped through his pores, and the everlasting grace of the Goddess.

Conversations phased out as people died one after another, body sapped of life that could not be given back.

But more kept coming to hold a candle, and like a vigil, they kept watch of him, and of each other.

Not one candle flickered out. And not one point of the outside pentagram was vacated too long.

Harry's consciousness could barely hold on as he heard laughter, crying, felt anguish, sorrow, happiness, frustration, and despair.

He heard his people's feelings and he extended his faith to them that no matter what would happen, things would work out.

But it was a fool's hope to do so and he was only doing it out of duty and out of pity because they never really knew what would happen. He held on to the tiny hope that perhaps the larger kingdoms would send their aid…

But all he could see was white. And how each blow hurt his body and his mind.

"Harry!"

Harry started coughing out blood. He began bleeding from his nose. He bled from his eyelids. His head was killing him.

His body was giving out.

It was too much for him to handle and only Albus could do this for months on end, without rest.

Harry blacked out.

* * *

Those who survived were imprisoned in bird cages to be fed on by demons.

The followers of the Goddess physically barricaded each wall and inscribed countless of runes just to prevent them from reaching the ritual chambers.

Harry kept praying inside the church when he regained consciousness. They kept knocking at the great hall's door, making nasty hungry sounds.

The other children huddled with him, hugging him, asking him if they'll be okay.

But Harry was too weak from putting up the barrier, and he made the swift decision to take the dagger beside him and began slitting the throats of all the children close to him.

"Please. Forgive me."

Harry prayed to the Goddess or whoever that was listening that all others would be saved from such a horrible fate of their souls being devoured.

And then, the door broke. The hinges snapped and the wooden door fell to the floor with a loud bang.

Harry was shaking, and behind him, the rest were attempting their best to kill themselves.

Harry was about to do the same when a vice like grip held his wrists and snapped it.

"Aggghh!"

"No, you don't... You will not deprive me of my prize." A lady suddenly materialized from the shadows and pressed herself around him. Her eyes were black, the darkest he's ever seen, as if they would swallow you up into an eternity of nothingness if you dared looked back.

But Harry gazed at them, unafraid.

"To think it was a child that did this all, how curious, and how terribly frustrating. I know those who'd pay a hefty price just for a taste of your soul. And my… my, you smell _absolutely divine_."

* * *

Harry was taken away from his friends. He was stripped naked and force fed so he would survive. They kept him isolated for days and poisoned him until he started hallucinating. The twelve year old boy began shivering, twitching and was so drugged he was unable to tell what was real and what was not.

They were taken to the underworld, down to its depths, to a dark room.

And all of a sudden, there were multitudes of horrifying beings that all but clamored for him. Hungry looking. Dark, depraved monsters who fucked in the open and killed and acted like the monsters they really were. There was so much noise Harry thought his eardrums would burst.

The smell was so repugnant for something so holy as him and Harry resisted the urge to throw up, as if being so close to so many of them physically made him ill.

It was like moving through thick sludge, a heavy weight on his limbs and it made him tremble and curl about himself.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. Many of you have travelled from far away to see our next piece."

Harry scrunched his green eyes at the sudden light that flashed to his face. The thin cords that kept his wrist together was cut and he looked at them confusedly.

"Go."

The monster pointed at the stage.

Harry knew subconsciously that it was his turn to step onto a floating disk like the many othere before him.

There was a sudden quiet in the air.

Silence so thick the only thing that could be heard was the soft padding of his feet on dark inky floor.

It was a thing straight out of the nightmares as this endless crowd of monsters made him only want to close his eyes. So many demons. So many of them looking at him. Inspecting him as if he was an insect.

Was he one?

Six claws pushed him forward and Harry stumbled on the floor and there was laugther. There was a harsh hiss, "Don't ruin the merchandize!" And someone started screaming.

Gently, he was picked up until he was laid on the floor, spread eagled and knees raised upwards.

Harry felt a gust of wind on his nether regions and shivered.

He wished he had a blanket. Normally he had a blanket in his cage.

"Where's my blanket?"

A man looked at him and poured something down his throat, "We don't need you coherent for this. Why not be a dear and just stay pretty, little human?"

Harry coughed, but instantly, his vision swam and his head lolled to the side. His breathing, too slow even when his heart was beating a mile a pace.

"We have a rarity tonight. A human child of the goddess! Green eyes, the rarest kind. Untouched skin. A virgin in the carnal sense! Purity unlike any other. His soul is not tarnished, save for a few human sacrifices he performed years back… One of the few survivors from the conquest of Hogwarts!"

There was a collective gasp in the crowd.

"_A human child who can do dark magic!?"_

"He must have demon blood!" Came another accusation from the crowd.

"No. No. This child has not one drop of demon blood, but like Merlin from many ages ago, we believe he is one of among the rarest magical types. I assure you my lovelies that the boy is human. I swear to our Lord and the Lords before him that his blood has not one drop of demon blood! My friends, he does carry the line of the first exorcist, and is the apprentice of Albus Dumbledore."

There was a thunderous applause. "Do you have proof?!" Someone hollered at the back.

"It will hurt him a little but his body will heal quickly, it merely requires a prick."

Harry tried to struggle away when something pricked his finger. The boy scrunched his eyes shut and whimpered as a hand began to pet him, "There there. That was not so bad at all, wasn't it."

The drop of blood floated, and instantly, markings began to appear in the air.

Rings of white, yellow and black filled with demon's writings.

"This is something you cannot replicate..."

"Salazar—" someone gasped.

"I want him. I want him badly. How much is he?"

"Ten thousand! We start the bid at ten thousand souls!"

* * *

Harry felt someone spreading his legs even further and he was stroked slowly before a full crowd. A full blush covered his face until he couldn't feel his cheeks.

He felt overheated and started moaning. "Nghh. Ahh."

They stopped touching him and something wet and cold was slathered all over his body. He relaxed to this and blinked open green eyes only to see a myriad of colors.

* * *

"This human has many uses. One of course is to satiate your sexual desires. And because he is blessed by the goddess, his body can withstand pain and to an extent, we can assist you in repairing his body to the best of our abilities if you_ break_ him too much."

A clawed finger began raising the boy's legs up and the crowd gasped at his pert bottom, "Like we said, untouched in all ways, even his mouth, or with his hands... The boy has no concept of all of the filthy desires of human kind, and he will be yours to corrupt. He is guilty of just one major sin, which is murder."

Harry whimpered at the way his body was being handled and nauseous. He started crying.

"His potential for our magic has yet to be explored," said the host, and he winked, tilting his head at an impossible angle, "You can use him as an apprentice or turn him into a half blood! For a price, we can even offer a chance to mix him into a potent pureblood line!"

There was a sudden thumping and someone pushed closer in an attempt to reach out for the boy. The host nodded at the guards who swiftly beheaded the demon.

Everyone else ignored the violent display as if it was normal.

"Last but not the least. You can keep him as livestock. His soul…" The host shuddered at this, and the man's human visage suddenly flickered to a demon's, "His soul smells delicious. We are currently masking his scent because we fear you, our dear esteemed guests will go mad at his smell. He is the most _delicious_ thing I have ever had the pleasure of _smelling_ and can you imagine what a small bite of his soul would be like?"

The man drummed his fingers together connivingly as he began morphing into a scantily clad woman. The metamorphmagus demon smiled obscenely with a seductive sway of the hips, "Now, each of you will soon see a floating piece of white cloth. It is what he wore during captivity. It has trace amount of his scent and a lingering imprint of his soul, very small, of course, for we cannot serve him for free. Mind you, we have very capable guards that will take down anyone that tries to steal him or create a fuss so please do not make trouble for us." The host waggled her fingers and began tilting the boy's head here and there.

The throng of demons began inhaling the sample, and soon, the crowd was roaring. "Let me have him! I don't care how much!"

"Ah, we have our first bet! Ten thousand!"

Harry tried tugging away but soon he was rotating on the floor, with his wrists strung up above him.

He winced at the pain that this brought him and more tears fell.

The bidding war began as demons of all ranks started clamoring, "A virgin soul." "Tasty" "What a treat. Who would have expected this?"

"Apprenticed to Albus, no less. I heard from the rumors he held off from a legion of demons all by himself for a week!"

"Let me have him!"

"And we have 10,100 souls!"

"Twenty thousand," said a blond haired boy with icy grey eyes. "I'm sure my father would love to have him for his collection."

"No. No! Twenty-two. Such a sweet boy deserves only the best." A woman wearing all pink pompously raised her fat hand and slammed it down.

"Twenty-five thousand souls," Said a scraggly haired demon whose eyes were deep set with tired lines. He was surrounded by wolves and dogs and looked at the child with thinly veiled interest and fear.

"Sirius, who would have thought you were a pedophile!?"

To this, the man replied, "And you know who this child is but you still brought him here. You sick sadist."

"He was being difficult. I wanted to harvest more souls for our master but he got in the way. Surely you can't argue that this revokes his protection, unless you want to challenge my decision, cousin dearest." And the woman smirked and decided to join in, "Thirty thousand souls!"

Sirius glared, "Forty thousand."

"A thousand more." Came a vampire.

"Fifty-five thousand, I can't let you morons take him away from me," Said the same blonde haired boy and pompously tapped his black cane on the floor.

"Fifty-seven thousand," Came from a silver haired wolf.

"Sixty-thousand," came from the shadows. The sign of the hallows appeared and there was a sudden silence. No one wanted to challenge the previous Lord's followers from taking the child. It was equivalent to asking for war.

"Sixty thousand! Going once!? Going twice! Going thrice!"

And then, from above, a winged being opened a portal to the auction hall. It did not take long until there were collective gasps of, "My Lord!"

Inky black brown hair, pale white skin, blood red eyes with thin vertical slits… Snowy white wings. A fallen descended from the progenitor himself.

"But he rarely shows his face."

"Why is he here?"

"Silence!"

The man stepped on the podium and ignored the sputtering host that weakly said, "You're not allowed to touch him, my Lord,"

"A hundred thousand souls. A measly price for such fine quality, don't you agree Nymphadora? Now learn your place. You should be kneeling when you see me."

The host knelt hurriedly, and she was followed by all those who haven't began to kneel at the reminder.

Lord Voldemort looked around him and saw how every single demon who was within the auction house have all but prostrated themselves to the floor. Even the impudent followers of Gellert himself.

"Well? Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge my claim over this child?"

There was only silence.

Nymphadora raised a shaky hand in the air, afraid that her master would lose his patience. Before she could risk any more of his ire, she spoke.

"Sold."


End file.
